By two thirty, the room began to empty as people returned to their offices or cubicles to wind down the day. It was going to be a long weekend, since Christmas fell on a Tuesday that year. People were expected to be back on the twenty-sixth and work weekdays until the last day of the year. Knowing little would be happening at the office, Frankie had decided that the thirty-first would be a day her staff could work from home, giving them two long weekends. Her hope was that nothing would blow up while she was away.
She grabbed her tote, put her coat on, and headed for the elevator, waving and wishing everyone a “Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy New Year!” Once, she had come up with something she thought covered all of them: “Happy ChristmasKwanz-Hanukkah.” Too bad it never caught on.
The elevator door opened, and she got in with several of the bean counters from the accounting department. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Frankie flashed a bright smile all the while thinking the grinches of publishing. She chuckled to herself. Frankie loved her “thought balloons.” They enabled her to keep her temper and confine her less-than-polite words to thoughts. She would envision a puffy cloud over her head, as in a cartoon, with the words she really wanted to say but knew that she had better not. They nodded politely and responded with some banal greeting or other. She chuckled again. Joyless creatures. I wonder if they get coal in their stockings. Then again, they probably don’t even have stockings.
She was glad when the elevator car reached the lobby. She had been amusing herself thinking about their playing the roles of the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, and she had almost burst out laughing. Frankie was the first to exit the car. She turned and gave them a big “Ho, Ho, Ho. Happy Holidays!” Following that, she spun on her heel in a comical manner, knowing they would think she was a kook. She figured they already thought that of her anyway.
As she passed Sam, she handed him a hat box that contained a box of truffles from La Maison du Chocolat. He had commented one time when she was carrying a shopping bag from the luxury chocolatier for one of her authors. He told her his wife loved them but they “were a little pricey” for his wallet. He gave her a surprised look. Frankie winked. “Just make sure she shares at least one of them with you. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to you, Frankie. Enjoy your cruise. Many thanks.” He gave the box an appreciative nod.
Frankie spun on her heel again and joined the throng of people pushing their way through the revolving door. She headed west toward Avenue of the Americas, which every real New Yorker called Sixth Avenue.
At the corner of Fiftieth and Sixth stood the legendary Radio City Music Hall, decorated with wreaths and garland, the marquee lit with the legendary words: RADIO CITY HOLIDAY SPECTACULAR STARRING THE ROCKETTES.
On the other side of Sixth Avenue, giant ruby-red ornaments sat on the large fountain in front of the Exxon Building, surrounded by trees with sparkling white lights. It was one of the most photographed holiday decorations in the city. No one was exempt from the festive charm. Even the food vendors went out of their way to decorate their food trucks. You couldn’t cross any corner without spotting a vendor with scarves, caps, mittens, and gloves that screamed “Joy to the World.”
Frankie decided to walk the twenty-six blocks back to her apartment instead of taking a cab. She turned left on Forty-Seventh Street, heading back east and passing all the diamond dealers and jewelry exchanges. The entire block glistened and gleamed with diamonds of all shapes, sizes, and colors.
Once she got back to Fifth Avenue she turned right and headed downtown. It was a pleasant afternoon, and walking gave her a chance to see more of the decorations. Even though she saw them every day, it made her happy to see them over and over again. On the cruise the following week, the decorations would be quite different. Palm trees with colored lights. Not something she was used to. She was getting as much New York holiday magic in as possible.
Frankie wanted to take one more stroll through the Winter Village in Bryant Park behind the New York Public Library. It, too, was a flurry of bustling activity with decorations, a large tree, food and beverages, and over a hundred boutique shops. It also had an ice rink but not as large as the 122-by-60-foot rink at Rock Center. She grabbed a hot pretzel from a vendor, looked through a few shops, and decided she should head back to her apartment. It was around five o’clock, and she was pooped. She pulled out her cell phone and hit the app for Uber. Twenty-minute wait. She could be home in less time if she kept walking. She adjusted her tote and shopping bags and marched down Fifth Avenue until it intersected with Broadway. She crossed Madison Square Park and was finally in front of her apartment building. She didn’t realize how bone-tired she was until she dropped her bags in the front entry, kicked off her shoes, and flopped on the sofa. Bandit came out from the bathroom and waited for less than a minute before jumping onto her lap.
“Hey, pal. How did your day go?” She scratched under his chin. “Mine was good. Busy. And I walked home.” He looked at her as if to say, “So? What about my dinner?”
“Yeah, I get it. Food. You and me both, pal.” She opened a can of flaked tuna for Bandit and peered inside the small refrigerator. Butter, some wimpy celery, suspicious-looking yogurt, and a few bottles of water. “Looks like it’s Marco’s again.”
She hit the speed-dial number for the restaurant and ordered a Caesar salad with grilled chicken. Easy and not too fattening. She chatted with Marco briefly and graciously ended the call. She had to pack for the cruise and wrap presents for her family.
She had been engrossed with her gift-wrapping and jumped when the buzzer rang. Giovanni hadn’t been around in a couple of weeks. Marco said he had gone to Italy to visit his fiancée for a week but would be back in time for Christmas. Frankie was crestfallen when she heard that Giovanni was engaged. She didn’t know why she had that reaction. Perhaps it was because there would be no chance that her fantasies about the handsome man would come true. Frankie shrugged off her disappointment and focused on the days ahead. A lanky twentysomething delivered her food. “Hello. I’m Antonio. Marco’s nephew.”
“Nice to meet you, Antonio. Do you live in New York?”
“I live in New Jersey, but I stay with my grandmother when I’m working at the restaurant. School is out, so I can help the family.”
Antonio opened the insulated carrying bag and handed her the salad. She dug into her purse for her wallet. “Marco said, ‘It’s on the house.’ Merry Christmas.”
Frankie shook her head. “You guys are too good to me.” She handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “Enjoy.”
“No. I can’t take this,” Antonio protested.
“Yes, you can. Merry Christmas!” She spun him around by the shoulders and gave him a friendly shove toward the door.
“Giovanni is coming back tomorrow. He said not to worry. He’ll take very good care of il gatto. I mean your cat.” Antonio smiled and gave her a little bow. “Merry Christmas! Have a nice vacation.” Yes, that was her plan.
Monday morning, she went to Leonelli’s and picked up her mother’s pastries for Christmas Eve dinner. It was the traditional Feast of the Seven Fishes, also known as La Vigilia. It could be any combination of fish including lobster, calamari (squid), shrimp, swordfish, whiting, sardines, anchovies, baccala (dried cod), clams, and mussels. Depending on the selection, the fish would be brought out in different courses. Then came the mista salad, with greens, tomatoes, fennel, cherry tomatoes, drizzled with a dressing of roasted garlic and olive oil. Her mother would also make stuffed mushrooms and serve them with the salad, along with broccoli rabe and green beans à la Parmigiana. A dish of linguine with clam sauce would follow.
Like Thanksgiving, the meal would last for a few hours. After the table was cleared, everyone would go to Midnight Mass. When they got back from church, they would have their dessert.
Christmas Day started out with opening presents in pajamas while sipping Frankie’s father’s famous eggnog. It was
served in small, red, rounded tumblers. Her dad believed there was a glass for each different beverage. She rather liked that idea and tried to implement it in her small kitchen cabinet.
Christmas dinner was simple. A ham, sweet potatoes, salad, and string beans. Any leftover ham came in handy later in the evening when someone wanted to fix a sandwich. It was a much more relaxed day, with everyone recuperating from the massive feast and the two-hour-long church service. By the time they had gotten home from Mass, it was after two in the morning. A few bites of cannoli and everyone crashed into their beds. Frankie preferred her family’s tradition over that of other families, who had to be in several places on the same day after going to church. She knew that would be a nonstarter if she was in a relationship. No one was getting in a car and driving anywhere on Christmas Day.
Chapter Twelve
December 26
Vacation Bound
With both Frankie and Rachael in Ridgewood, it made sense for them to take the same flight to Miami. Frankie’s dad loaded his trunk with her luggage. “I hope Rachael doesn’t have too many suitcases!”
Frankie groaned. “Oh, you know she will.” Leaning toward the dramatic, Rachael had an outfit for every meal and occasion.
“She already told me she was bringing three changes of clothes per day.”
Her father chuckled. “With all those wardrobe changes, will she have time to enjoy the sightseeing?”
“If there are men involved, yes.” Frankie knew Rachael’s reputation for chasing men was no big secret. “Although I sensed something different in her voice during our last phone call.”
“Maybe she’s more mature now.” Her father was half-serious.
“I think she finally put on her big-girl pants and stood up for herself.”
“I never knew Rachael not to stand up for herself.”
“Yes, but that always included yelling and slamming doors.” Frankie mused. “She had a confrontation with Greg over Ryan, and she kept her cool. Greg backed off as if she had hit him with pepper spray.”
“Words are powerful if you use them in the right context with the right tone.”
“I know, Dad. You always said that people will listen once you stop yelling, screaming, or crying.”
Bill Cappella looked over at his daughter and grinned. “At least something got through.”
A short while later, they pulled in front of Rachael’s house. Frankie jumped out and jogged to the front door, where Rachael was waiting. They hugged each other and jumped up and down. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Rachael said with gusto.
“I know,” Frankie responded. “I haven’t taken a vacation in ages. And I’ll be away from the office for almost two weeks. I know I’m going to dread opening my e-mail in-box when I get back.” Frankie made the face of a crooked smile and rolled her eyes.
“What about your assistant?” Rachael asked, as she began to haul her luggage onto the front porch.
“Matt? He’s great. He’ll go through the physical in-box, but he won’t touch my e-mail. You never know if there will be sensitive stuff in it.”
“Right. That makes sense.” Rachael tugged at the fifth and final suitcase.
“Wow. You weren’t kidding about a change of clothes for everything. You do realize you’re going to have to pay extra for your bags?”
“Yep,” Rachael remarked.
Frankie pondered if all of it would fit in the Lincoln Corsair her father was driving. “We may have to tie you to the roof,” Frankie teased.
“That would be fun,” Rachael replied, as if she knew what riding on the roof was like. “Like Mitt Romney’s dog, eh what?”
Frankie’s father began to rearrange the luggage in an attempt to make all of it fit and decided to put a few things in the back seat with Rachael.
“You gals ready?” he asked, as he got into the driver’s seat.
“You bet,” they said in unison.
The three of them sang along to the Christmas carols playing on the radio. The trip to the airport only took about forty-five minutes, given the light traffic. When they pulled in front of the United Airlines doors, Frankie’s dad called a skycap over to help him unload. “Happy holidays, sir,” the man wearing the blue uniform said. “Where to?”
“Miami,” Frankie answered.
“And then viva la Caribbean,” Rachael added.
Rachael and Frankie showed the man their tickets. He counted the bags. There were seven in total, not including their carry-on totes. “How long you going for?”
“A week.” Rachael batted her lash extensions at the man.
Frankie gave her a light elbow to the ribs. Rachael whispered back, “I’m practicing.”
“Girlfriend, you don’t need any practice.” Frankie chuckled.
The skycap tagged the bags and handed them their tickets. “You’ll have to pay for the extra luggage at the ticket counter, or they may hold them hostage in Miami.” The man grinned.
“No worries. Thanks,” Frankie said, and smiled back.
Frankie’s father pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and handed them to the man. He knew the bags were heavy and cumbersome, and tips were how most of them make their living. They barely made minimum wage.
Frankie gave her father a big hug and a kiss. “I’ll call when we check into the hotel in Miami. But don’t expect to hear from me once we’re out on the high seas.” She laughed. “I’m turning off and tuning out. Unless there’s an emergency. Then send word to the ship.” She handed him a card that had contact information for the cruise line in case there was something urgent and the passengers couldn’t be reached by cell phone.
Rachael also gave Mr. Cappella a hug. “Thanks for the lift. ¡Hasta la vista!” Both women gave a wave as they entered the terminal. Security clearance took little time. They were fortunate to be flying on a light travel day. Most people were where they wanted to be or where they had to be.
The flight was uneventful and landed at Miami International Airport on time. After they got their luggage, they asked a skycap to find them a taxi, and he wheeled their bags to the curb. When they exited the building, the hot wet air hit them in the face. “Wow. I forgot how humid it is here,” Frankie remarked.
“Glad I got that Brazilian hair straightener,” Rachael shouted over the sound of a jet coming in for a landing.
Frankie tipped the skycap the same amount her father had at Newark. He was very appreciative and looked for a vehicle that could accommodate all of their luggage. “You staying for a while?” he asked.
“No. We’re going on a cruise. Grand Cayman, Belize City, and Cozumel.”
“Very nice.” He shoved their bags into the back of a minivan. “You all have yourselves a good time.”
“We intend to,” Rachael exclaimed. Frankie hoped Rachael wouldn’t burst into a Mexican folk song.
As the van carried them to the hotel, they couldn’t help noticing palm trees with Christmas lights. Frankie chuckled. “It’s all coming back to me now. It hadn’t occurred to me during my first year of college that there wouldn’t be normal Christmas trees. But then I saw dozens of palms with lights. It was kind of kitschy, especially with glowing plastic flamingos wearing Santa caps. I couldn’t wait to get home.”
A half hour later, they arrived at the hotel. Rachael paid for the cab since Frankie had paid the tip for the skycap. They were always compatible that way. No one ever pulled out a calculator when they were out together. “It will all come out in the wash,” Rachael would say.
A bellman greeted them as they got out of the van. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Vie Vay.” He eyed the number of bags that came out of the van. “Will you be staying with us long?”
“Just for the night,” Frankie replied.
“We’re cruising tomorrow,” Rachael added.
“Very good,” the young man responded. “Please check in at the front desk. I’ll bring your bags to your room as soon as you get the key.”
The two women checked in, and the
bellman followed them to their suite. They were all going to share a large, two-bedroom suite. Amy was going to share one bedroom with Rachael, and Nina would share the other with Frankie. “What time are the other two getting here?” Rachael asked.
“Their flights are supposed to get in around the same time, so they’ll hook up at the airport and share a cab here.” Frankie put the keycard into the door. She handed the bellman ten dollars, and Rachael handed him fifteen.
“That was the easiest twenty-five dollars he’ll make today.” Rachael snickered. “I’m going to change my clothes.”
“Already?” Frankie looked a little surprised.
“I always feel gross after I fly. I don’t know if it’s the stale air, even though they say it’s fresh. Or maybe it’s the close proximity to people. And then there’s the humidity? Whatever, I’m slipping on a cool sundress.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Frankie concurred, as she entered her room and Rachael went into hers.
“This is going to be so. Much. Fun.” Rachael began peeling off her shirt and jeans. “I don’t know how anyone can wear jeans in this climate.”
“Funny you mention it. I wore jeans the entire time I was here in college. Granted, sometimes they were cutoffs, but I don’t think I’d be wearing them now. It seems so much hotter here,” Frankie mused. She opened her small carry-on and pulled out a crinkled cotton midi dress. “I’m glad this is supposed to look crinkled,” she said, holding it up.
After they changed into more comfortable clothes, they decided to take a walk. “But if it gets too hot, I’m diving into the nearest bar for a cold iced tea,” Rachael stated.
“You mean as in Long Island iced tea?” Frankie was aghast, referring to the alcoholic drink that consisted of vodka, rum, gin, tequila, and sour mix.
“Oh no. Not yet. I don’t want to start this trip schnockered or with a hangover.”
Santa Cruise Page 10
